Day and a half left before I have to shoot a very ambitious one-day project. Don’t let the brevity of the text fool you. So, what am I doing? Drinking wine and cranking up the volume. Damn I’m a good singer and percussionist. I should unlock my guitar case, dammit.
In fairness, I’ve been obsessively working out green screen issues, debris, script, scheduling, lenses, filters, angles, reflectors, the way to get acceptable sound, make-up, hair, a DIY dolly that vibrates a bit too much without being weighed down with more than fifty pounds…
So after drilling holes in a furring strip to construct a DIY ‘drape stand’ and hang reflective tarps or a white sheet, I finally gave up and took a shower. Then the craving set in. I had a bottle of Italian red on standby from Trader Joe, my dearest friend.
Fridays are nirvana over at RP. So I’m swimming in a bit of a trance right now. I do love my Behringer studio monitors. I think they’re rated 120 watts, but I don’t dare go over half that.
So back to multitasking, an ongoing theme here if you’re paying attention. Filmmaking is the ultimate test of a multitasker. The details mount quickly, and that’s if the actors actually show up. I already just shot a one-actor short, which I’m in the process of thinking about considering editing, after the PSA of course. Or maybe in ten minutes. Who knows?
But damn, David Gilmore’s guitar solo brings me back to that stroke of luck in the late 80s, when I was able to see one of Pink Floyd’s final shows at Giants Stadium. It was a surreal moment, bigger than life. Roger Waters had left the band permanently, but the others were all on board. It was the raw power that arrays of lasers, hazy atmospheres and massive video screens brought to a band so legendary and professional that it could scarcely be glimpsed through the rest of the crowd, each and every one standing on his or her seat for the duration. At one point of the concert I headed to the bathroom, and upon returning I discovered a clear line of sight down the long aisle directly to the stage. I slowed my pace to a crawl. Gilmore, utterly amazing, the primordial rocker without any need to prove a God damned thing to anyone. I don’t remember the song at that moment, only finally getting a clear view of another level of existence. It was a dream. It had to be.
I’ll be preparing the final details for my PSA this Sunday. It’s for a contest. My backyard will become Redding’s finest green screen studio. The zombiepocalypse will rise again. Beware: it’s coming.